


There Are No Showers Down Under

by J_E_McCormick



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Junkrat Doesn't Know What A Shower Is, he doesnt mean to be a dirty boy he just Doesnt Understand, he's also afraid of water but i think that's justified tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_E_McCormick/pseuds/J_E_McCormick
Summary: It's not that Junkrat doesn't want to be clean. He's just still adjusting to the concept of clean water.





	1. The Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> *crashes into the Overwatch fandom* I don't even play this game I just like the toasty junk man okay.
> 
> On a more serious note, I've been lurking around the Overwatch fandom about a week now because I love the characters and concepts but can't play FPS games worth shit. This is my first attempt to add anything and my characterisation is going on fics and character bios so. Forgive me.
> 
> This was inspired by the thought that Junkrat probably took sand/dust baths in the Outback but somehow this ended up having nothing to do with that so.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, there's this thing called "showers" in the Overwatch headquarters.

Junkrat comes into the little shared kitchen space after returning from a mission, patting out the still-smouldering tips of his hair. Lúcio watches as he crosses to the fridge and pulls out a water bottle – his water bottle, that he throws a fit over if anyone else touches it – and sips a little from it.

“Good mission?” Lúcio asks, turning back to fixing himself a snack. Junkrat giggles.

“Brilliant, mate. Got a bit close, but nothing me an’ Hog can’t handle.” He says with a wide grin. He brushes at the soot covering his shoulders and huffs a little. “Dunno how a guy’s meant’a get clean ‘round here, though.”

“There should be a shower in your bathroom.” Lúcio tells him.

“A what?”

“A shower. You know, to get clean in.” The Brazilian turns to look at Rat and leans back on the countertop. “Just be careful not to go too crazy with the hot water.”

“Water?!” Junkrat’s eyes go wide and he stares at Lúcio as if he’s lost his mind for a moment before laughing. “You don’t _clean_ with water, mate.”

It’s Lúcio’s turn to give Junkrat a puzzled look. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Wha- you just don’t!” Junkrat says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he can’t believe Lúcio is questioning it. “If you find water that clean you keep it to drink. ‘S a fuckin’ waste to go pouring water on yourself. And I ain’t trust no water out of a tap, either. Shit’s full of radiation. Ain’t that right Hog?”

Roadhog has just squeezed his way into the kitchen, and looks over to Junkrat with a questioning grunt.

“You wouldn’t believe the shit he’s sayin’ Roadie, talking about ‘ _showers’_ with _water_ outta _pipes_.” The Junker continues, cackling as if Lúcio has revealed they have pigs that fly. Roadhog pauses in the process of making himself a mug of tea.

“’S how showers work Jamie.” He says shortly. Junkrat’s grin falls and he snorts.

“Well they can keep their ‘showers’, I’ll stick to me sand baths thanks.” He says a little huffily. “Ain’t gonna find ol’ Junkrat wastin’ water and getting irradiated, no siree!”

“No sand ‘round here.” Roadhog reminds him. “Gotta shower.”

“I promise the water’s safe. And it’s not a waste, really, we have a whole water store for bathwater and stuff.” Lúcio tries to appease Junkrat, who’s scowling now. “All cleaned and everything. I swear man, it isn’t gonna hurt ya.”

“Yer all nuts.” Junkrat mutters, carefully setting his water bottle in the fridge again and eyeing it to make sure he’ll know if it’s touched, before stomping off out of the kitchen, the sound of his prosthetic hitting the floor echoing down the hall.

Roadhog finishes making his tea, looks over at the doorway, and grunts in a way that Lúcio chooses to take as “ _I’ll go after him_ ” before doing just that. Lúcio stares after them for a moment, wondering what on earth just happened. Eventually he shrugs it off and returns to his snack.

The junkers were an odd pair, that was for sure.

~

“Fuckin’… rubbing water all over yourself, who does that kinda shit…” Junkrat mutters to himself as he shrugs off his harness and explosives, setting them all carefully, neatly, in the corner of the room. “Using water outta pipes, what damn idiot…” He’s cut off as Roadhog enters the room, mug of tea in hand. Junkrat scoffs a little. “You gone barmy or what mate? Woulda thought you would know water safety an’ shit.”

“’S different here.” Roadhog says. He sets his tea on a table and pushes back his mask to look at Junkrat clearer. The mask comes off for serious talks where Roadhog thinks Junkrat needs to be able to see his expression. “’S not like the Outback. There’s no radiation.”

“Well, o’ course there’s not as much, but there’s gotta be some, right? The Omnics had at the whole world, not just Oz.” Junkrat says. Roadhog shakes his head.

“Didn’t have a big Omnium explosion like Oz did. Nothing to irradiate everything. ‘S why it hasn’t all gone to hell.” He explains patiently.

Junkrat frowns, fiddling with his metal fingers. “Well… makes sense I guess… But I still don’t trust it. Water ain’t something to be trusting, you gotta be careful.” He looks down at his hands. “…Dunno how you can just be alright with it, just like that.”

Roadhog sighs a little, considering Junkrat for a long moment. Times like this, he forgets that Junkrat isn’t like him – didn’t really have a life before the Omnium explosion, doesn’t remember the world before it. It’s easy for him to sink back into having clean, running water on demand, food that isn’t old ration packets or out of date canned soup or bushmeat. He’s glad to be back in a world without radiation and devastation all around – but Rat has never known anything but a world of ruins. Of course he’s wary, uncertain, distrusting.

“It used to be like this before.” Roadhog tells him. “Used to always have clean water an’ showers.”

“…Right.” Junkrat nods a little, and he’s gone quiet. He doesn’t like being reminded how out of place he is, that’s he’s trying to adjust to a world that everyone else knows and takes for granted. He likes it even less when he remembers there was a Roadhog before the Omnium, there was _Mako_ , a different Mako to the one he knows now, and he’d lived like everyone else did now, Before. Roadhog goes over, gently lays a hand on his back.

“Can show you how it works.” He offers. Junkrat looks up from his hands, chewing at his lip, then back down as he thinks. “I’ll make sure it’s safe.”

“Alright.” Junkrat nods after a moment. “But if that shit’s even a little irradiated I ain’t touchin’ it, alright?”

“Alright.” Roadhog rumbles, smiling a little. “You’re the boss.”

That makes Junkrat smile and puff up his chest. He moves away from Roadhog, striding confidently towards the bathroom.

“Damn right, Hoggy, and my word goes.” He practically swaggers into the adjoining room. A moment later he looks back into the main room. “Well, you comin’ or what?”

“Coming.” Roadhog assures, and goes after him, still smiling.


	2. The Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat gets clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mainly wanted to have a go at some good ol' Junkrat and Roadhog interaction. And why not do it this way?
> 
> Ended up kinda soft but what did you expect from this situation honestly.

The confidence starts to melt away when the two of them are in the bathroom, assessing the facilities. Junkrat starts twisting his hands together, fiddling with the joints of his metal hand.

While Roadhog was fairly sure that a shower would sit better with Junkrat than a bath would – he didn’t think the other Junker was quite ready to submerge himself in water, no matter how much Roadhog assured him it was safe – there were a few logistical problems that came with it. Junkrat would have to take off his prosthetics, to prevent damage to the mechanics and metal in them, and that would mean he couldn’t stand. If he was without his prosthetics and forced to sit, he’d be nervy and unhappy. Not only was he going to be forced to take the first shower of his life, he’d be vulnerable while he did it, and the equation in Roadhog’s head was adding up to a very, very upset Jamison.

Well, first things first. He needs to prove to Junkrat that the water was not going to have him sprouting extra body parts or melting away on contact.

He lowers the showerhead and tilts it down, so that it won’t cause too much splash or be too loud. He turns the water on to a low setting and lets it run, making a soothing hushing noise as the water sprays down onto the smooth plastic bottom of the shower. Junkrat peers at it and grimaces.

“Mate, you gotta be shitting me. It’s like a tiny rainstorm, that’s even worse.” He mutters. Rain in the Outback had about a 70% chance of being acidic, and Roadhog has to admit even he is still wary when rainstorms roll in.

“Ain’t rain.” Roadhog reminds him, letting Junkrat continue to peer at the spray.

“Nah, it’s tap water, which ain’t much better.” The smaller man huffs. “Roadie, you sure about this?”

“Course.” Roadhog nods. He turns a large hand palm up and reaches to the spray. Junkrat’s hands grip at his other arm, holding tight, his metal fingers digging into flesh and muscle. He pauses a moment, looking at Junkrat. “’S alright. ‘S safe, it won’t hurt me.”

“Right.” Junkrat says, anxious and jittery but nodding for Roadhog to go ahead. He puts his hand under the spray for a moment and pulls it back, letting his companion see that it isn’t red or blistering. He relaxes at that, his metal fingers releasing their grip and leaving pink marks in their wake.

Next, Roadhog lifts his hand to his mouth and licks some of the moisture from it. Radiation didn’t show or smell, didn’t have the immediate effects of acid, but you could taste the heavy metals contaminating it. If you found water in the Outback, you tasted a drop, and if it tasted like blood and gunmetal you left it well alone. The water of the shower tastes of chlorine, like all the water here did but a little stronger, and beyond that clean and clear. He hums approval, letting Rat know he didn’t taste anything to worry about. The smaller man studies him for a moment, then squints sceptically at the water again.

“Try yourself.” Roadhog says, nudging him forwards. Junkrat huffs, grumbles a little, but sticks his hand under the water to wet it and brings it back to his lips. At least he trusted it enough to not burn his skin.

For a moment he looks thoughtful, oddly quiet, but then the bunched muscles of his shoulder and back relax and his slumps a little.

“Well sod me.” He mutters, shaking droplets from his hand. “They really do have clean taps here. An’ all of their water’s like this?” Roadhog nods. “Christ. Why ain’t they never shared it with us lot?”

Roadhog rumbles deep in his chest. Now is not the time for Junkrat to get worked up about the injustices Australia has been a victim of.

“They tried.” He mutters. “Too expensive. Get yer arm and leg off, you need to clean.”

That jumps Rat’s brain from the water crisis back to the shower, and he’s quick to make his protest. “Hog, no, come on. Ya can’t just leave a guy crippled in a shower.”

“You’ll ruin ‘em otherwise.”

“Makooooo.” Junkrat whines, hanging off Roadhog’s arm like a petulant child. He huffs and looks down at Junkrat, who is doing his very best to give him puppy dog eyes. It shouldn’t work from his dirty, gaunt face, all sharp angles and darkly shadowed eyes, but apparently he’s still a fucking softy and he can see a very real fear in the back of Junkrat’s eyes.

“I’ll stay and keep watch.” He grunts, shaking the twig of a man off his arm and turning up the water pressure. “Get in the shower.”

Junkrat makes sure to do so with as much grouching and complaining and whining as he can, sitting on the tiled floor and twisting off his leg, wriggling out of his shorts, and fiddling with his arm until it’s all in a pile next to him and he is doing his very best to cross his arms and pout. The first part doesn’t work very well with only the stump of his right arm left, but he’s certainly managing to pout like a baby. Roadhog snorts and nudges him to the shower, easily able to push him across the floor. Junkrat sits at the threshold, considering, testing the water again with his stump, and finally crawls in.

He yelps as he immediately gets water in his eyes, having not considered to close them or turn his face from the water.

Roadhog can’t help it; he laughs, deep and loud, as Junkrat scrabbles around in the shower, attempting to rub the water out of his eyes and navigate his way with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh you can rack right off ya massive cunt!” Junkrat yells at him, flailing his hand in Roadhog’s general direction. “Real funny ain’t it? Fuckin’ laugh it up.”

Roadhog snorts a little as he tries to get his laughter under control. He pads over to shield Jamison’s face from the spray and help wipe the water from his eyes. Like this, without his bionic limbs or harness of explosives, his hair flattened to his head and drooping into his eyes from the water, scowling like a stropping child, he doesn’t look very much like the infamous Junkrat – just the young man that’s hidden under the Outback’s influence. This could almost be normal.

“Sorry.” Mako tells him, still smiling.

“Yeah right. Cockhead.” Jamison mutters, carefully trying to blink his eyes open. He sweeps his hair back from his face.

“Here. Face away from the water.” Mako tells him, twisting Jamison around so his back is to the shower spray. Jamison keeps on pouting, looking annoyed and put out. Mako lets him, leaving him to get used to the water while he looks at the soaps and shampoos provided. Eventually he starts rubbing at his skin, washing off the soot and dirt. He watches the trail of darkened water as it swirls down into the drain curiously, stark against the white plastic he’s sat on.

“How’ve you even been keeping clean?” Mako asks him after a little while of quiet.

“Sneaking off for dirtbaths after missions.” Jamison tells him, scratching some of the more stubborn dirt from his skin. “It don’t take much, jus’ a quick scrub o’ sand to get the worst off.”

After a beat of silence, he adds, “Gotta admit this is nicer. Ain’t as scratchy as sand. And it don’t get stuck places.”

Mako hums, pressing a bottle of shampoo into his hand. Jamison looks confused for a moment.

“For your hair.” He prompts. Jamison fiddles, manages to flick the lid open, and spends a moment clicking it open and closed, giggling delightedly. Finally he squeezes it and figures out soap comes out the top, and after a little fiddling, gets it positioned under his arm to use the remains of his elbow to squeeze some into his hand. It’s probably far too much for the little, patchy hair he has, but Mako doesn’t think anyone will complain about Junkrat using too much shampoo. Jamison mutters to himself a little as he does his best to rub the shampoo in properly.

“Give a bloke a hand, mate? I’ve got one less than everyone else.” He says eventually, when he tires of wriggling around and trying to clean himself.

“Gotta learn to do it yourself.” Mako mutters, but his hands are wet already and really, what the hell, might as well make sure the kid did the job properly. He kneels down and starts to rub the suds more thoroughly into Jamison’s scalp and hair, using some of them to scrub down his back where he couldn’t reach properly himself. The smaller man smiles, humming in that contented way he does sometimes.

“Sounds like you’ve warmed up to the shower.” Mako comments as he pushes Jamison to lean back under the spray to wash off the suds on his back.

“Ain’t that bad, once you know it ain’t gonna kill you.” Jamison nods. “Feels right nice, actually. I guess I could get used to it.”

“Good.” Mako grunts. “Close your eyes.”

Jamison does, almost comically screwing his eyes as tightly shut as he can as Mako directs him to put his head under the stream of water and gently washes the suds out of his hair. It still feels a little brittle and rough under his palms, but Jamison’s hair reveals itself to be a surprisingly nice pale blonde without the dirt, soot, and singes. Mako can even see bits and pieces of previously bald scalp to be regrowing hair – no doubt the work of Dr Zeigler’s radiation treatments and the time spent out of the Outback.

He pushes Jamison forwards, letting him rub the water from his eyes again. “There.”

Jamison looks over himself, at tan lines that are clearer now dirt isn’t blurring them, at the freckles and moles that cover his torso, arms, and leg. He rubs at skin now smooth, without the dryness of dirt or the coarseness of sand, runs his fingers through his hair and goes crosseyed as he tries to look at a lock he pulls in front of his face.

“Cor, I ain’t half blonde, am I?” He says. “Ain’t never seen it this colour.”

“Too dirty.” Mako says. He pulls the towels off the bathroom’s rack, laying one on the tiles and holding the other ready. “You can come out now.”

Despite seeming to have gotten comfortable enough with the shower, Jamison is quick to scramble out, onto the towel Mako set out. Mako drops the second towel on him, and Jamison coos interestedly at how soft it is as he wraps it around himself. He snuggles down into the fabric, seeming more interested in cocooning himself than actually getting dry.

“Oi, turn that off, wouldya? No need to use more of it.” He says, and Mako leans over him to do so.

“You gotta actually get dry.” He points out after Jamison continues to just sit in his towel. Jamison pouts and wraps the towel more firmly around him.

“I am drying.”

“Ain’t warm enough to just sit and dry. You’ll get sick.” Mako sighs.

“Can’t make me.” Jamison screws up his face and sticks out his tongue. Mako grins, big and sharp.

“Oh?” He growls, and then he’s roughly towelling Jamison down as the smaller kicks and wriggles and laughs loud enough to echo against the tiles.

“Stop it! Get off me you fuckin’ pig! Roadie!!” Jamison yells, making a valiant effort to crawl away from Mako’s grip but he’s grabbed back and held easily. Mako can feel the gasp and shudder of his ribcage as he cackles, loud and gleeful, always in that shrieking half-mad tone that makes him sound like a hyena more than a man. It unsettles most, but Mako has heard it enough to tell when there is danger to it and when there isn’t. He scoops the smaller man up, still wriggling, and takes him through to the main room, throwing him onto the bed where he bounces and giggles. “You fuckin’ bastard, you’ve left me limbs in there!”

“Serves ya right for bein’ a brat.” Mako tells him.

“Give ‘em back you cock.” Jamison demands, grinning wide. Mako picks up some clean clothes - a pair of shorts and a tank top - and chucks them in Jamison’s direction before going to collect his false limbs and depositing them next to him with a significant amount more care. Jamison has managed to get into his tank top, and is fiddling with the shorts when Mako returns. He’s quick to get the arm back on so he can dress properly, but doesn’t bother reattaching the leg, deciding instead to start cleaning it and tinkering with the mechanics.

His hair is ruffled and wild, no longer stuck to his head with water; with his metal arm in place and tinkering around with the tip of his tongue between his teeth, he looks more like Junkrat. With the dirt and grime washed away, though, Jamison is visible underneath – like he’s blended back into one, like he’s adjusting to not being a Junker scavenging metal and scrap in the Outback deserts, and living in a world that isn’t hell. Mako wonders if maybe he’s like that too, less of a Before and After and more of a Both.

“Hey, mate.” He’s pulled from his ponderings by Junkrat-Jamison’s voice. He’s smiling, small but bright and genuine. “Thanks. For y’know, showing me how it worked an’ all.”

Mako grunts wordlessly, but Jamison seems to understand the meaning because he nods and goes back to his tinkering. Mako grabs up a book, and reclines on the bed beside Jamison, and the two of them settle into the familiarity of each other’s company.


End file.
